


once again

by fruti2flutie



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruti2flutie/pseuds/fruti2flutie
Summary: No one is willing to admit it, but at the back corner of the reception hall, where the lighting is more dim than romantic, there is a table of guests who don’t belong.Table 19isn’t seated for close friends or family but for seven misfits, attempting to fit in.





	1. 09.25.2021

**Author's Note:**

> -title from [“last song” by onewe & oneus](https://youtu.be/Laa2XPzsGvw)  
> -inspired by the movie table 19, which is super unconventional & therefore makes this fic utterly ridiculous  
> -everything is set in the modern american midwest. weddings in korea are a lot different from weddings here, and i write with the knowledge from my personal experiences from, like, ten or so traditional viet-american weddings. i may've gotten some things wrong, from wedding stuff to other miscellaneous things, but i hope that that doesn't take away from the overall story!  
> -rated for mild language, drinking, too many brand name drops, subtly implied bedroom adventures, bad decisions & uhhh okay technically crime but. it makes sense in context, i swear.  
> -comprised of the main story (ch1, ~15.5k) and epilogue (ch2, ~1.8k)  
> -as always, i've read this a few times but there may still be mistakes & parts i'm not satisfied with... i may return in the future to fix things!  
> -happy reading!!! this was very self-indulgent lmao

**4:30 P.M.**

The sign-in board is crooked. Guests of the wedding are expected to write well-wishes for the bride and groom on a framed map of the world, black-colored continents on a white background. Gold and silver permanent markers are on the side table. The standee that the board rests on is a degree above parallel to the ground, which makes it slanted. Sunwoo stares at it, debating whether anyone would care if he fixed it.

No one would, but _he_ cares if someone _saw_ him. Sunwoo Kim, stuffed in a dress shirt and slacks, formerly one of the groomsmen’s boyfriends, fixing the display for a wedding he shouldn’t even be at.

He regrets wearing a tie. Self-asphyxiation is not the way he wants to go.

It’s fine. Whatever. He doesn’t need to care for a crooked board. He doesn’t need to care about what happens at this wedding. Sunwoo snatches his place card on the table, sees the cursive _Table 19_ written in dark blue, and goes straight to the reception hall.

The doors are locked, though, because he’s technically half an hour earlier than the time guests are supposed to arrive. So much for an entrance.

**4:45 P.M.**

“We’re going to be _late_ ,” Jacob grumbles, outside the bathroom. He hits the door a few times for good measure, making Kevin lose his place in his one-man performance. “This isn’t the time to be rehearsing for your _Hamilton_ audition!”

The sound of running water stops abruptly. There’s a thump of footsteps and muffled cursing. The door swings open to reveal Kevin, dripping wet, towel around his waist, glaring hard at his boyfriend. Jacob tries not to laugh, because the shampoo is still foamed in Kevin’s hair.

“You see my hard drive from high school _once_ and you still can’t let it go, can you?”

Jacob raises an eyebrow. “You wrote fanfiction for the founders of America. Babe, we’re not even _from_ the U.S. That’s not something I could ever let go.”

“It was a _phase_ ,” Kevin hisses, mortified. “In my defense, the cast of the original Broadway musical was really hot.”

“Hey, you’re not wrong.” Jacob nods to the shower and taps his watchless wrist. “You better hurry, mister. The hall is a thirty minute drive away.”

Kevin leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “I can totally make it there in twenty.” He turns around to finish washing, only to slip on a puddle and fall haplessly onto the _Lilo & Stitch _ themed rug underneath him.

Jacob asks delicately, “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“My pride, bruised.”

“Get in the shower,” Jacob says.

Kevin crawls away and grumbles, “Yes, sir.”

While Kevin finishes showering, Jacob lays out their outfits on the bed. They’d gone shopping a few weeks earlier to choose them: blue cotton button-ups, with Jacob’s shirt a shade lighter than Kevin’s. He’d ironed them yesterday, planning to wear them to the wedding ceremony at the church this morning, but they’d gotten... carried away last night, and missed the alarm for it. Kevin sleeps like the dead, and Jacob is no better beside him.

Jacob is all dressed by the time Kevin’s done showering. After he blow dries his hair, Kevin walks casually out of the bathroom, wearing only his boxers. It’s nothing Jacob hasn’t seen before, but he still looks the other way out of habit as his boyfriend puts on the rest of his outfit.

“Why does it matter whether we’re late or not?” Kevin huffs, jumping into his pants. He wriggles and squeaks, kneeling on the bed to pull them on without his hands. “They won’t notice. Hell, I’m sure they don’t even remember inviting us.”

Jacob turns to him, lips pursed. “It’s the polite thing to do, even so.” Kevin makes a dissatisfied noise, face contorted. “Why are you putting on your pants like that?”

Kevin pauses. His pants are up to his knees. “Personal enjoyment.”

“Okay.”

After Kevin is done putting on his clothes, Jacob helps him with his tie. He smooths out the lines of Kevin’s shirt and says, “You look dashing,” laughing at his boyfriend’s attempt to wink at him.

Leaning close, Kevin kisses Jacob and murmurs a “thank you” against his lips. “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome.” He smiles, innocent, and then makes a break for it out the door.

Jacob rolls his eyes. “I’m _not_ racing you to the car!” He sighs, adjusts his collar, and follows. That’s the love of his life, and he still wonders what on earth he did to deserve him.

**5:10 P.M.**

Younghoon is fairly certain he’d filled out his RSVP card drunk. He comes to this realization because a) his name is spelled _Yonghoon Kim_ on his place card and b) the name of his accompanying guest is _Christopher Bang♡_. Younghoon willingly wrote for the heart, yet he cannot rationalize why whoever made the place cards included it.

At Younghoon’s side Changmin, long-necked best friend of nearly ten years, remarks, “That’s awkward.”

“End me,” Younghoon groans, face buried in his hands. A petite woman reaches around him to grab her place card, though Younghoon can’t be bothered to feel like a nuisance. Well, he always feels like a nuisance; this just happens to be a more formal setting.

“You should give yourself some slack,” Changmin says. “I mean, look, it’s really not that bad. Awkward, yes, but not terrible.”

“I drew a _heart_ ,” Younghoon cries. He points at the gold inscription of it on his place card, which probably cost an extra dime. It makes him feel sad _and_ guilty. “Chan was my plus-one... We were gonna slow dance together!”

“You dated him for two months,” Changmin says placatingly.

“ _Still._ ”

Albeit short-lived, the story of Younghoon and Chan (also known as Christopher) is one he treasures. Like all of Younghoon’s relationships, he was the one who’d gotten asked out. Chan was a barista at a family-owned coffee house, working odd hours, who Younghoon got to know during his last modelling job downtown. Coffee became a fixture in his midnight routine, with Chan’s dimpled smile an added bonus.

Chan invited him to watch the latest Nicholas Sparks’ movie, and that’s when it started. They went out on the weekends and, when they could, after both of them were off work. They mostly kept their relationship on the phone, through calls and texts and FaceTime. Younghoon liked the way Chan talked, liked the way his eyes lit up when he gushed on about his passion. He produced music, wrote poems and songs. He wanted to change the world, one eighth note at a time, and Younghoon fell in love with that.

When Chan told Younghoon he couldn’t be with him anymore, Younghoon had already imagined their five-year plan. Move to the suburbs, get a welsh corgi, sleep in on Sundays. Weekly craft store visits, a vegetable garden, growing old together. Have a love story, which has always been Younghoon’s dream. Chan shattered that in an instant, saying, “We want different things, Hoon, and it’d be best to stop before we go any further.”

Chan wanted to focus on his music. Younghoon wanted to have someone to love. Not all too different, maybe, but Chan’s mind was made up.

Then, that night, Younghoon drank himself drunk and mailed the RSVP that had been buried under _Seventeen_ magazines and the bag of bananas in his kitchen. He’d forgotten all about it in the morning, but here he is now, a month later, stuck in regret and a blue tie.

At least he has Changmin with him. It’s somewhat comforting to have your best friend with you, instead of a date, when you know literally no one but the groom at the wedding. Changmin had agreed to go, no questions asked, when Younghoon begged him just yesterday. His only complaint had been the last minute notice; Changmin had spent an hour trying to pick an outfit, and he blames Younghoon for what he deems as “basically casket attire.” Younghoon thinks he looks fine.

Every so often Younghoon’s gaze falls on Changmin’s wrist, where a materialistic reminder of their friendship chimes and glints in the light, a sign of Younghoon’s dependence on the younger male. He’s never seen Changmin take it off unless he really has to, like when he showers or does the dishes, which makes him all too satisfied. Sometimes, he’ll catch Changmin playing with the charm, unaware of his own touch, and _that_ makes Younghoon even happier.

Anyway.

“You fall in love too easily,” Changmin chides. Younghoon whines, stomping his foot. “As a great female philosopher once said, you need to shake it off.”

Younghoon sniffles. “Are you quoting Taylor Swift?”

“Florence + The Machine could’ve also worked.” Changmin claps his hands onto Younghoon’s shoulders. “The point is: this is a wedding! Instead of wallowing in that breakup, you should _enjoy_ yourself.”

“I should,” Younghoon affirms. “Yeah, I should!” He takes another look at Chan’s name on his place card and deflates. “I shouldn’t.”

“Give me that,” Changmin huffs, snatching the place card. He takes a marker from the sign-in board and crosses out offending the name, writing his own in thick ink. “There. Now _Changmin Ji_ is your plus-one.” Younghoon gives him a tiny smile, which Changmin returns ten-fold. “Now, let’s hunt down some of those servers. I saw a lady holding mini crab cakes!”

Looping his arm through Younghoon’s, Changmin walks them into the hall in search of fancy _hors d'oeuvres_. Younghoon breathes out, compliant.

**5:20 P.M.**

“Mom, I’m telling you, that’s a myth! No one’s stealing anyone’s anyone. I already _told_ you I’m bi. Like, six times in the last two days, in fact! I texted you! Can you— I’m—”

Eric pinches the bridge of his nose, phone to his ear, as he has to hear _don’t you dare seduce a bridesmaid, young man_ , from his mother’s mouth. It causes his face to heat up. He should _not_ have to deal with this.

“I’m going through a tunnel,” Eric interjects, voice cracking. He mimics the interfering static in between his words as he says, “See you when you get back home, okay? Bye, mom!”

After he hangs up, Eric presses his forehead against the wall, groaning. He’d driven to the reception alone just fine, but his mom insisted on checking up on him. Even when she’s on vacation, sipping piña coladas on the Carnival cruise ship, she’s worried about her baby boy. God, if only he could complain to his sister, who would’ve _loved_ being here, but she’s too busy saving elephants in Thailand. That jerk.

“Your mother sounds wonderful.”

Eric yelps. He whips his head around and sees a male, taller than him and dressed in all black, with only the silver of his jewelry adding color to his outfit. His eyes are narrowed, naturally, and he has a kittenish curl to his lips. He’s got legs for days, with evident muscle in his calves. It’s not often Eric stumbles upon someone so attractive, but he supposes that’s a perk of attending a wedding. A downside, though, is that Eric’s not that great at first impressions.

“Excuse you, walking heatstroke? Are you eavesdropping on my very personal phone call?”

The stranger is taken aback. “I mean, I wouldn’t call it eavesdropping since you chose the entranceway of the building to have it.”

Eric thins his lips. The entranceway is connected to the lobby, which in turn connects to the long hallway that leads to the three sizable reception halls. Hyuksoo and Lu’s wedding is so big that they take up two rooms, with the other reserved for _The Smiths_ , as the signage outside that doors indicate. This spot isn’t the best place for an embarrassing phone conversation with his mom, but Eric has too much pride to admit that the stranger is right.

“Are you here for Hyuksoo and Lu’s wedding? You look Asian.” Eric’s eyes widen. “No offense or anything! I’m just spitballing. I’m Korean, she’s Chinese, he’s—”

“Yeah,” the stranger interrupts, saving Eric the trouble of going down the wedding party’s ethnicities. “Hyunjoon Heo. You can call me Leo, but I like Hyunjoon, if you can pronounce it.”

“I go by Eric. My mom calls me Youngjae.” Eric freezes. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last part.”

Hyunjoon and Eric head towards the sign-in table, where a groomsman and bridesmaid are helping guests find their place cards. There’s a queue ahead of them, so he waits with Hyunjoon and strikes up more of a conversation.

“Are you here on the bride or the groom’s side?”

“Groom’s. And you?”

“Technically, both. I’m neighbors with them,” Eric says. “Lu was my babysitter for almost all my childhood. Got real close. What about you?”

“I’m a blood relative,” Hyunjoon answers, smiling. He doesn’t elaborate, because they reach the front of the table and the bridesmaid — Jinhee, Eric recognizes, from way back when — asks them for their names.

After they get their place cards, Eric rubs his finger along the chicken sticker next to his name. “I’m sitting at _Table 19_ tonight,” he proclaims.

Hyunjoon raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Really? That’s my table, too!”

Cheerful, Eric makes a delighted hum in his throat and muses, “I wonder who else is sitting with us. I mean, I don’t really know anyone here, but I’m just wondering what kind of people they’ll be.”

Hyunjoon holds the doors to the hall open and says, “There’s only one way to find out.”

**5:55 P.M.**

Rewind to last month. Sunwoo’s invitation to Hyuksoo and Lu’s wedding is sent to his house, and his father sees it before he can. He tells his son, “You should take my coworker’s daughter.” Sunwoo checks the box for steak, writes in _no accompaniment_ , and says, “My date is already in the wedding party.” That’s the end of that, and no one under the roof speaks of it again.

Here, in the present, Sunwoo is toeing the line between _I shouldn’t have come here_ and _I’m waiting for the $500 wedding cake._ It’s a very, very, very fine line.

He’s seated at _Table 19_ , with six other guys, and has already glossed over introductions with each of them. Hyunjoon — Leo, to those who can’t form the syllables of Korean well — is related to Hyuksoo in some way, likely a third or fourth cousin. Kevin and Jacob are past students from Lu’s music studio. Younghoon is a frequent customer at Hyuksoo’s restaurant, with Changmin as his plus-one. Eric is the boy next door to the couple, attending alone, without his parents, who couldn’t make it.

And Sunwoo is here, too. He drinks from his glass of rosé, swirling the pale pink liquid in the flute. The bartender had stared at him when he ordered it, as if he’d heard wrong, but it’s one of the few alcoholic drinks Sunwoo can tolerate.

“So,” Jacob begins, looking between Changmin and Younghoon, “how did you two meet?”

“We’ve been together ever since middle school,” Changmin answers.

Eric chokes on his water. “You’ve been dating since _middle school?_ ”

Younghoon pulls apart a roll of bread, frowning. “Who? Changmin and who?” Eric points to Younghoon, making his eyes go wide. “ _Me?_ No, we’re not dating. We’re best friends.”

“We met in middle school,” revises Changmin. His casual tone must mean that this misunderstanding happens often.

“That’s sweet,” Jacob says.

Smiling, Changmin takes the piece of bread Younghoon hands him and says, “I’m guessing you and Kevin are in a relationship. Your color coordination is giving me the vibe that you’re actually dating.”

“It’ll be our four-year anniversary soon,” Kevin says, taking Jacob’s hand. “We met in university! The both of us were psychology majors. And we saw each other at Lu’s studio, too, during vocal lessons.”

“What do you guys do?” Hyunjoon asks. “Job-wise.”

“I’m working in HR at an accounting firm,” Jacob responds, “and Kevin’s an elementary school counselor.”

“Yikes.” Eric clears his throat, hurriedly sipping from his glass. “Uh, I mean, that’s cool! Microsoft Excel and... children.”

“No need to sound so excited,” Kevin laughs. Eric gives him an apologetic grin.

“What about you?” Hyunjoon asks, coy. “How’s high school?” Kevin muffles a snort.

“I’m in college!” Eric exclaims. “I might look young, but I’m not _that_ young.” He purses his lips. “I was undeclared for a while, though, until I settled on physical therapy.”

“Me too,” Younghoon says. “The undeclared part, not therapy. Feet freak me out.”

Hyunjoon asks, “So what’d you end up choosing?”

“He dropped out in his sophomore year to become a model,” Changmin answers. Younghoon nods. “I’m a clinical lab technician, but I used to work as a veterinarian’s assistant.”

Eric whistles, and Hyunjoon actually looks impressed. Kevin looks like he wants to ask Changmin more, but Jacob stops him with a hand on the inside of his arm. It makes Sunwoo swallow the rest of his drink. He’s reminded of someone who’s here but not next to him, someone he’s wanted to hold but can’t.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo glances at Jacob, who’s fixed him with a gentle gaze. “Sorry, I’m just... taking it all in.”

The day is going exactly as Sunwoo imagined it would. The ceremony had been gorgeous, burgundy and navy sashes decorating the pews of the church. He’d gotten there late, so the wedding party was already at the front of the aisle. As the ceremony went on, he’d stayed in the back. He’d seen the tops of heads and the backs of dresses. After _I do_ s were said, blessings were given, Sunwoo slipped out of the church and to his car. He has no idea how the wedding is going behind-the-scenes, if the bride lost her veil or someone forgot the directions to the venue, but it seems like everything’s running fine.

The reception hall is gorgeous. The lighting is warm, with spotlights illuminating the sides of the walls, a grand total of four chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. The decorum is elegant yet minimalistic, matching with the color theme, accents of gold scattered here and there. The centerpieces are long, cylindrical vases, half-filled with glassy marbles, a single rose resting on top. The dance floor is polished wood, a couple toddlers in gowns or tuxes already prancing about.

With the head table at the front of the hall, the stage is far off to its left. On it, there’s a live band that includes a platinum blond singer, wearing black suspenders and a red bowtie, fiddling with the cord wrapped around the microphone stand. Nearly all the guests have taken their seats, so it must be nearing the official start of the celebration.

“Is this your first wedding?” Kevin asks. Sunwoo nods. “How do you know the bride or groom?”

“Hyuksoo is an alumni of my college. Kind of like a mentor, I guess.” Sunwoo looks at the head table, where the wedding party has yet to claim residence. “He’s closer to my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Younghoon says. He keeps eating his bread, and Sunwoo respects that.

“No big deal. I’m over it.” Sunwoo holds his empty flute in both his hands, running his thumbs over one another. “Yeah, totally over it.”

The static from the microphone cuts through the speakers. Sunwoo recognizes the woman on the stage, short and round-faced, as Hyuksoo’s aunt. She’s the MC for the night, good with words and names and faces. She taps the microphone a few more times to get all eyes on her.

“ _Can I have everyone’s attention, please? The celebrations are currently underway, so you should find your table and have a seat. Hurry, hurry! We’ve got a long night ahead!_ ” There are a few laughs, accompanied by the scratching of silverware against ceramic plates. After a minute, she goes on, “ _Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to see tonight’s main guests!?_ ”

The response are cheers and napkins waving in the air. “That’ll be the wedding party,” Hyunjoon comments. “It’s showtime.”

“ _On your feet! Cue the music!_ ”

The drummer of the band kicks a beat, and the bassist begins to play the tune of DNCE’s “Cake By The Ocean.” (What a throwback!) _Table 19_ stands, too, although it’s hard to see the main doors from this far into the corner. Eric stands on the chair, with Hyunjoon making sure it doesn’t topple over, and the rest are content with just hearing the applause.

“ _Starting with the best man and maid of honor — Sangyeon Lee and Yeji Lee! And no, they aren’t related!_ ”

As the band plays background music, the wedding party pairs make their entrance. The bridesmaid have navy dresses, while the the groomsmen have burgundy ties. They do short performances to the crowd, keeping spirits high. Eric asks Sunwoo if each passing groomsmen is his ex-boyfriend, which Sunwoo continuously responds “not yet.” He knows them all, however. Sangyeon grew up with Hyuksoo, Juyeon is Hyuksoo’s soux-chef, Jaehyun is Hyuksoo’s closest relative, and—

“ _Last of the groomsmen and bridesmaids — Haknyeon Ju and Hyemi Kim!_ ”

Eric waves at Sunwoo, raising his voice to be heard over the cheers. “So _that_ one’s your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Sunwoo watches Haknyeon do that ridiculous wiggle dance with Hyemi, both of them laughing and laughing as they skip to the head table. It knocks the breath out of him, the mere sight of Haknyeon’s smile, the mere sound of his laugh. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“ _Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for — tonight’s stars, Mr. and Mrs. Hyuksoo and Lu Kwon!_ ”

**6:30 P.M.**

Changmin has been to a wedding before. He’d been a part of his oldest sister’s last year, which was hectic in every single aspect. As a groomsman and especially as a member of the family, there was so much to do in so little time. There was the traditional Korean ceremony the night before, setting up the church the morning of, and then making sure the reception ran smoothly in the evening, too. The best man nearly lost the rings, the piano player had pneumonia so they’d had to get a last-minute replacement, the bride broke the heel of her shoe — and that’s not even the half of it.

It was a great day, no doubt, and Changmin had had the time of his life. Younghoon was there, but they hadn’t seen much of one another; Younghoon brought one of his model friends as a plus-one, so he was preoccupied with him. Changmin had still danced with them, took shots with them, and saw them ride a Lyft back to Younghoon’s apartment. He hadn’t minded; he stayed with his sisters and counted the number of take-out boxes guests “forgot.” It was enough of a distraction to keep him sane.

With today’s wedding, where he comes as a guest of a guest, it’s nice to sit back and relax. He likes the ambience, the atmosphere. Younghoon doesn’t look all that pleased, sulking about Chris Boom or Bang or whatever it is. After a few drinks, he’ll be as happy as a clam. Younghoon will drink himself silly, use an excessive amount of Snapchat, and Changmin will wait until his best friend is nearly unconscious before dragging him to the car, driving him home, and tucking him into bed. That’s always what happens.

This wedding is going differently than Changmin had expected, though. For starters, he’s here as Younghoon’s date— No, his plus-one. He’s here as a replacement for Younghoon’s ex-boyfriend, invited yesterday so the dependent Younghoon wouldn’t cry and accidentally give the bartender $200 in tips. (It’s happened before, outside of Changmin’s control, and Younghoon had to relinquish his wallet to Changmin the next weekend for safekeeping.) Neither of them is family or a close friend, so they see everything at face-value. It’s all so beautiful, so picturesque, but Changmin has always been a people-watcher by nature and can tell that something’s not right at _Table 19_.

At the moment, what’s concerning Changmin is the disconnect his tablemates have within themselves. He’s good at picking up the nervous ticks that people themselves don’t notice. Jacob tugs the threads of the napkin in his lap. Sunwoo runs his fingers around his glass. Hyunjoon taps his foot on the ground, to a beat only he can hear. Eric worries his lip as his eyes dart around his surroundings. Everyone has their problems, their own pits of dirt they’ve buried secrets in, but Changmin knows they’ve got to rise up and see the sun some day.

Sunwoo’s confession of having an ex-boyfriend in the wedding party gets Changmin the most interested. He’s no psychologist, not like Jacob or Kevin, but he’s burdened by his own curiosity. He likes having answers, even when they won’t help him specifically. Once the soups are served to the table, Changmin decides to dig a hole in Sunwoo’s plot of land.

“Why did you break up?” he asks. The clam chowder is good. Changmin likes seafood.

“I don’t wanna get into it,” Sunwoo says, curt.

Eric stirs the wrong spoon in his bowl and asks, “Was it recent?” He shrinks at Hyunjoon’s abrupt glare. “I mean, time heals all wounds, right?”

“It was two weeks ago,” Sunwoo responds. “So.”

“And you still decided to go?” Kevin says, shocked. “That takes balls, man.”

Sunwoo chuckles derisively to himself. “Yeah, but here I am, moved to the reject table, two steps from the exit.” He takes a spoonful of his soup to his mouth. “I seem more cowardly than courageous.”

“Reject table?” Jacob echoes.

“That’s harsh,” Younghoon says. Eric nods, sipping his clam chowder straight from the bowl.

“Okay, let me rephrase.” Sunwoo scoots his chair in, folds his hands on top of the table, and tilts his head. “We are seated here because — surprise, surprise — the wedding planners couldn’t make us fit anywhere else. Nobody cares about this table.”

“Hey!” shouts Eric.

Sunwoo raises an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you talked to the bride and groom?”

Eric prickles. “My parents talk to them all the time.”

“Not your mom and dad,” Sunwoo retorts. “You. When’s the last time _you_ held a conversation with Hyuksoo and Lu, the functioning, tax-paying adults?” Eric swallows, unable to answer him. Sunwoo takes a triumphant sip of his water. “Thought so.” His eyes flit to Jacob and Kevin. “Same goes for you two lovebirds.”

“We see them on our Facebook feed,” Kevin defends weakly, but he sounds like he’s fighting a losing battle. Changmin doesn’t blame him; Sunwoo’s got a way for making you rethink your life choices.

The servers come by to clear their soups and then pass out plates of wedge salad. Per Younghoon’s request, another basket of bread is given to the table. The server who delivers it, a woman no older than thirty, blushes the moment Younghoon thanks her. That triggers another snarky comment from Sunwoo, who rubs his nose and scrapes his fork against the plate.

“You must’ve made the photographer feel great,” he drawls, dripping with sarcasm, as he chews a leaf of lettuce. Younghoon bites into his bread, rendered speechless. “Sweet, aesthetically pleasing eye candy for the wedding video. Makes for a nice picture.”

“That’s enough of that,” Changmin says. He’s sure he could get along with Sunwoo in a normal sense, when his mood isn’t shit, but this won’t stand. “You can’t say these things without— without _knowing_.”

The insinuation that he _doesn’t_ know sparks something in Sunwoo, making him sit straight and point out a whole slew of guests on the other side of the hall.

“Over there? Little miss Lu’s side. Her sorority sisters take up two tables. She’s got her friends from her foreign exchange student program next to that. She can’t put her aunts from her mom and dad’s side together or else they’d take out mahjong and bet their grandchildren’s college funds. Hyuksoo’s side is even more crowded. That table is his cooking staff, and then his waiters and waitresses. His relatives from Busan are over there with his relatives from Daegu. He’s a real family man.

“Which makes me wonder...” Sunwoo turns to Hyunjoon, now, suspicious. “Why exactly are _you_ here, cous’?”

“Too old for the kids’ table, too young for the adults’ table.” Hyunjoon’s tone is playful, but Changmin can see his foot tapping.

“Is that really all? You sure you aren’t some forgotten, estranged—”

“Sunwoo, stop,” Jacob says, calm but firm enough to get all of them to go silent. “I know you must be hurting, but you shouldn’t take it out on us. You can talk it out — we’ll listen.”

There’s an unreadable expression that crosses Sunwoo’s face, a mix of sadness and anger and pain. He bites his lip, shakes his head, and stands so suddenly his chair nearly clatters to the ground.

“What the hell do you know? What do you know about me?” Sunwoo clenches his fists and pushes out his chair. “You know what? Screw this. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t—” Jacob stands, panicked. “You can’t leave!”

“Why not? What’s stopping me?”

“The occasion!” Jacob exclaims, and Kevin gets to his feet, too.

“It’s a wedding,” Kevin clarifies. “You should be here— _stay_ to support the bride and groom.” Changmin agrees with that.

“So what? You don’t know me! You don’t know what I’ve—” Sunwoo doesn’t finish his thought, turning on his heel and muttering, “Whatever.” He strides out the nearest doors, and Jacob trips over himself trying to follow.

“What are you doing?” Hyunjoon asks.

“I’m making sure he doesn’t do something he regrets,” Jacob huffs, Kevin resolutely by his side. “You’re all welcome to join us.”

The remaining four share a look. It’s a decision to be made in a fraction of a second, make or break. Eric takes a large gulp of his water and says, “I’ll go.” Hyunjoon follows him, then, and Younghoon turns to Changmin, expectant.

Changmin thinks, _Why not?_ And Younghoon knows.

**7:10 P.M.**

“Hey, is this chicken or fish? I don’t remember what I got.”

“That is—” Sangyeon takes a pause, scrutinizing the slab of meat on Juyeon’s plate, “—a protein, of some sort.” Juyeon picks it apart with his fork and knife, unimpressed.

“I’ll tell you.” Jaehyun stabs his fork into Juyeon’s food and pops a piece in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s fish.” He stops. “Wait, I take it back. It’s chicken.” He grimaces, hastily reaching for his drink. “Holy shit, how can chicken taste like this? Oh, Christ, my _mouth_. Where’s my Hennessy—”

After he washes the taste off his tongue with quality cognac, Jaehyun hisses loudly and pushes Juyeon’s plate far from his own. “Wedding food,” he grunts, eating a forkful of his own steak, which is exceptionally decent. “Made to please the masses but inevitably tastes like shit.”

Juyeon sighs. “I should’ve gotten another salad...”

Sangyeon laughs at his friends’ misery. He can stomach dinner, mainly because he’d chosen the vegetarian option, which gave him a bowl of cheesy fettuccine alfredo. (No, he is not a vegetarian, but he’s been to enough weddings to know never to get the chicken.) He offers Juyeon and Jaehyun some, feeding them from his fork. When he looks to his other side to do the same with Haknyeon, who’s mindlessly moving the peas around his steak, he frowns.

“You’re not eating?”

Haknyeon looks up. “I am,” he says, though he doesn’t move to bring his fork to his mouth. “Slowly.”

Jaehyun rests his head on his hand, staring at Haknyeon with pity in his eyes. “Oh, Brian, how you’ve changed. You would’ve eaten three steaks and a loaded potato by now, if you weren’t so heartbroken.” His tongue is loose from the alcohol, but Sangyeon still schools him with a glare.

Haknyeon scrunches his nose and throws a pea at him. “Don’t call me by my English name. It’s weird.” He narrows his eyes and snaps pointedly, “ _Jerry_ Lee.”

“So what? My mom was way too obsessed with ice cream when they came to America.” Jaehyun scratches his head. “My sister’s name? Ben. You can’t make this shit up.”

Sangyeon laughs, as does Juyeon and Haknyeon. Jaehyun, sipping his drink, looks pleased to have gotten a real reaction out of them, especially Haknyeon. It’s no secret that their friend has been down in the dumps, despite the occasion. He can try and hide it, but Haknyeon is... difficult. He’s got a mindset like carbon, existing as diamond or graphite or another compound altogether. Sangyeon wants the best for him, but he knows that it’s not his fight to win. After all the advice he’s given, what’s left to do is wait.

“Hey, guys. Real talk.” Jaehyun points across the hall. “Do you think I can get the wedding singer’s number? The guy with the suspenders.”

Sangyeon looks towards the stage. The singer, who he hasn’t met formally but is a friend of a friend, is preparing his voice for the first dance. (It’ll be a traditional Korean song, which was chosen by Hyuksoo’s parents.) Blond hair, fair skin, clear tone. He’s attractive, doll-like, and looks like he has higher standards than a consistently irritable virgo — i.e. Jaehyun.

“No,” Sangyeon proclaims. “Not even a fake one.” Jaehyun gasps, personally offended.

“I probably could.” Juyeon shrugs, casual, aloof. He drops his fork, too.

Eyebrow cocked, Jaehyun takes the rest of his Hennessy down like a shot. “Oh, pretty boy, you’re on.” Sangyeon rolls his eyes, and Haknyeon snorts.

**7:25 P.M.**

Hyunjoon helps Sunwoo pilfer from the kitchen. He has no legitimate reason to, aside from the fact that Sunwoo would get caught had he attempted it alone. Really, Hyunjoon does it as an act of solidarity, of trust. This is after Sunwoo had waltzed out of the reception hall, the rest of _Table 19_ following, and it feels strangely rebellious in a way Hyunjoon has felt before.

Stealing isn’t hard. Eric acts as the official lookout, the remaining four unwilling participants. Hyunjoon and Sunwoo make their way into the kitchen, amateur thieves in the making. The workers are busy serving plates and cleaning dishes. Hyunjoon looks around for the biggest fridge, finds it, and Sunwoo gets the door open to snatch a cold bottle of champagne. As quickly as they’d come, they sneak out and sprint to the other side of the building, where the other reception hall room is located.

With the deed done, Sunwoo drops onto the couch outside the men’s bathroom, cradling the precious bottle in his arms. Hyunjoon sits beside him, with Eric sitting on the other side, while Jacob and Kevin stand. Younghoon takes refuge on the floor, and Changmin sits on the coffee table in front of the couch, carefully fixing the former’s hair. The music inside the Kwon wedding’s hall is far and muffled, which means no one can hear them unless they’re stumbling their way to the toilet.

“Is this even legal?” The epitome of the disappointed parent, Jacob watches as Sunwoo attempts to take the cork off the champagne with his teeth. “Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re gonna break your jaw.”

“If you have to ask, I think it’s not completely within the law,” Hyunjoon says. He takes the bottle from Sunwoo, faces it away, and pops off the cork with a skilled twist of the wrist. It doesn’t bubble or spill out, so he hands it back to Sunwoo. “Dude, you should thank me.”

“Thanks, corkscrew.” Sunwoo takes a long swig of champagne and then wags a finger at Jacob. “My wedding gift is nearly fifty dollars, actually. I’ve basically paid for what I’m stealing.”

“You can’t put ‘paid for’ and ‘stealing’ in the same sentence without contradicting yourself,” Kevin says. Even so, he does take a sip, when Sunwoo offers.

Jacob makes a garbled noise at that and says, voice cracking, “Yeah, so this is illegal.”

“You’re welcome to call the police,” Sunwoo drawls, uncaring. “If they can actually arrest a guy — two? two and a half guys? — for stealing alcohol at an event with three hundred or so people on the guestlist, props to the cops.” He pokes the bottle. “Someone was bound to drink this anyway, if not solely by me.”

“Chaotic evil,” Younghoon mutters.

Eric hums, “More like chaotic neutral.”

“Ay, I’ll drink to that,” Sunwoo says. He tries, but Jacob confiscates the champagne before he can.

**7:40 P.M.**

Younghoon glances up Jacob and Kevin, who are having an argument with Sunwoo about the recklessness of his actions. (Kevin seems less concerned, but he’s taking Jacob’s side.) Eric and Hyunjoon are Sunwoo’s defense, for some reason, and are providing surprisingly sound arguments for stealing $50 alcohol. The entire time, Jacob holds onto Sunwoo’s champagne and even threatens to dump it down the sink. It feels like an intervention amongst friends, which they surely aren’t, and that makes Younghoon wary.

Younghoon moves closer to Changmin, keeping his voice at a whisper. “Do you really wanna be around these guys? I’m not sure what’s happening.” He squeezes Changmin’s hand. “We could be in _danger_ , Changmin.”

“I have to be honest,” Changmin begins. “Half of these men are the cutest people I’ve met in my entire life. Look. Eric’s so small.”

“I heard that!”

Younghoon frowns. “Well, so are butterflies...” Changmin knows the story: six-year-old Younghoon getting traumatized at the local zoo’s butterfly exhibit when he almost inhaled a swallowtail.

“And they are evil,” Changmin says, “but I think we’re okay.” Younghoon slumps, but he doesn’t complain any more. Changmin’s word is essentially law.

While the others continue to bicker, a couple men pass by, carrying a variety of floral arrangements and signboards. They ignore the guests on the couch in favor of setting up a table to lay out the decorations, seeming short on time. Those men as well as a curly-haired woman enter the reception hall, leaving various items in the lobby area for _Table 19_ to inspect. A white sheet with _Write your blessings for the Smiths!_ written on the top, wooden models of ducks and foxes, buckets of red and orange rose petals.

There’s something in particular that collectively catches their attention: a large box, covered in a hot pink blanket, that moves two inches to the right on its own.

Most of them scream. (Changmin doesn’t, because Changmin grew up on his grandfather’s ghost stories and the _Insidious_ series.) Jacob drops the champagne, but Eric dives to catch it, whispering, “Safe.”

Ever the brave soul, Hyunjoon gets up to take a look. He carefully pulls the blanket off the box, and everyone’s eyes widen.

It’s a sizable cage of metal wire that contains six rabbits, grayish fur and beady eyes, squished against each other. They look nothing like the rabbits from the pet store, which have colors of tan or white or black, groomed daily. Younghoon flocks towards them, cooing, placing his hands on the outside of the cage. Changmin pulls him back right before one of the rabbits tries to nip at his finger.

“The Smiths will probably include them in their ceremony,” Jacob notes sadly.

“Celebratory bunnies to hop down the aisle,” Hyunjoon guesses. “I don’t see how it’ll be any good.”

Younghoon frowns. The rabbits look so cramped and uncomfortable. “They must hate it in there,” he mutters.

“This must be a form of animal cruelty,” Kevin declares. He looks around at the others, lips pouted. “Changmin? Animal expert? What’s the verdict?”

Leaning closer to the cage, Changmin hums thoughtfully. “As far as I can tell, these are wild bunnies. All of them are anxious. Ears down, paws tucked underneath themselves. You can hear them breathing faster, too, if you listen closely. Poor little things.”

“Wait, did— did they capture _wild_ rabbits for this?” Jacob stammers.

Changmin nods. “Must have. I don’t see how else they would’ve gotten into this death trap.”

Kevin stares at the cage, gaze unwavering. “This sucks. I’m setting them free.”

“Yeah, this sucks,” Eric agrees, and then pauses. “Wait, hold up.”

Jacob gapes. “ _Kevin_.”

“I’m setting them free,” Kevin repeats, clearer, as he attempts to lift the cage. He doesn’t make it half an inch off the ground before setting it back down, exhaling loudly, hands on his hips. “Okay, that’s not gonna work. Who wants to help me carry this? We have to be quick.”

Sunwoo stands right away, rubbing his nose. “Finally, something to do.” And then he hits his foot on the leg of the table and crumples onto the ground. “Ow.”

Jacob sighs. “No, you’re obviously in no condition to. I’ll help.” He scrunches his eyebrows. “Wait, no, I will _not_ help.” He hits his boyfriend’s arm, affronted. “Kevin, you can’t be serious!”

“I am, in fact, very serious. More serious than... kimchi on rice. Okay, not my best work, but you can’t blame me for trying.” Kevin clears his throat. “Younghoon? You look strong. Tall equals strong, right?”

“He’s a couch potato,” Changmin says.

Younghoon should be offended, but just last week he’d rewatched two seasons of One Piece while eating McDonald’s on the couch. Changmin knows this because he was the one to bring him his Chicken McNuggets and fries, joining him for his marathon despite his dislike towards the classic anime. (“There are way too many episodes,” Changmin had said, a bite of a Big Mac stuffed in his cheek. “I mean, end it in less than ten seasons, please.”) So, since Younghoon can’t take offense to something that’s true, he just nods and says, “Sorry, Kevin.”

“I can help you,” Hyunjoon offers.

Standing up with Hyunjoon, Eric chirps, “I can, too!”

“Awesome! Thank you, Eric and Hyunjoon, for being my accomplices.”

“I don’t condone of this,” Jacob says as the three of them lift the cage and start walking to the entrance.

“Capturing the rabbits were likely a criminal offense,” Changmin proclaims, “if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t, but thanks.”

**8:15 P.M.**

“Hello? Earth to Mr. Ju?”

Haknyeon startles. Jaehyun is waving a hand in front of his face, snapping to get his attention. “The dessert table is open,” he goes on. “I’m gonna get some strawberries and a cannoli. Want anything?”

“Yeah, can I get one of those—”

“Oh, look, I’m already walking away.”

Typical. Haknyeon doesn’t blame him for being an ass, though. Jaehyun is a lot of drinks in, and being kind of an ass is just in his nature. A wedding can bring out the worst in you, but for Jaehyun he’s a warm soul hidden in a haughty exterior. When he comes back, he’ll probably hand Haknyeon a plate of fruit anyway.

The bride and groom are making their rounds around the hall, visiting every table and thanking the guests for their presence, so the bridesmaids and groomsmen have some downtime before the dance floor officially opens. The guests are finishing off the cake. It’s red velvet, with cream cheese frosting, white chocolate shavings on top. Hyuksoo and Lu shared the first cut, following the cliché of feeding one another. Lu had smeared a dollop of white frosting onto Hyuksoo’s nose, and he’d returned the favor.

Haknyeon is doing his best to eat his slice, but it doesn’t feel right. He’s eaten half his cake by the time Sangyeon returns from the bar, passing him a Coke and a screwdriver for himself. Haknyeon thanks him, taking a sip, and also congratulates him on his best man speech. It was well-spoken and made Hyuksoo cry, which is always the goal. Sangyeon shyly accepts the praise, although he admits to shaking with nervousness moments before giving it. Haknyeon hadn’t even noticed.

“Do you miss him?” Sangyeon asks Haknyeon, then, with no ill intent. He watches Haknyeon carefully, gauging his reaction, as does Juyeon, who returns from the desserts table with a few bite-sized macarons.

Everyone knows what had happened. To break the news to the wedding party that Haknyeon wasn’t bringing his boyfriend, only two weeks before the date, was shocking and saddening. He’d been reluctant to say the words “broken up” or “ex,” because that felt more permanent than things needed to be. He and Sunwoo haven’t even spoken to one another since the incident. It’s been too long since he’s heard Sunwoo’s voice.

“Yeah,” Haknyeon says, finally.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Glancing at the table in the far off corner of the hall, Haknyeon shakes his head. “No,” he says. He swallows. “I watched him go.”

“To the bathroom...?” Juyeon guesses.

“You’re not helping,” Sangyeon says. Juyeon goes silent, biting into a macaron.

“He left. I know he did.” Haknyeon crumbles his cake with his fork, gnawing on his lip. “He... He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Sangyeon puts a hand on Haknyeon’s shoulder and reassures, “Sunwoo loves you.”

There’s fear in Haknyeon’s heart, but he knows Sunwoo. He knows that the years they’ve spent together, the memories they’ve shared are worth more than one fight. To even call it a fight... Haknyeon wants to call it a misunderstanding.

“He does,” Haknyeon whispers. He smiles, but he knows it’s not whole. “We’re just scared.”

“How about a toast between friends?” Sangyeon lifts his glass. “For your heart to be healed.”

“And what about your toast?” Haknyeon raises his glass, too.

“For me to find someone who’ll break my heart.”

Haknyeon laughs. “Cheers.” After that, the cake tastes a little sweeter.

**8:20 P.M.**

Kevin stares at the rabbit cage by his feet and then at the bustling highway out in front of him. “We didn’t think this one through, did we?”

“ _You_ didn’t,” Jacob says. Kevin pouts at him.

While the plan had been to bring the rabbits outside and simply let them go, the Saturday night rush doesn’t seem to agree with it. There’s a forest far off to the side, but it’s a good distance away. It looks like a little less than an hour’s walk, past the parking lot and along the boardwalk that extends above the river. The sun is close to setting, which means that the darkness is on its way, too.

“It’s pretty far from here to there,” Eric says. “Hey, what if we just open the cage right now? Would the buns go towards the forest?”

Changmin responds, “No, they would probably jump into the street, interrupt traffic, get hit by a truck. Die.” Eric horrified reaction, albeit priceless, sums up the situation.

“Look at what you did,” Hyunjoon huffs. “You made him sad.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Younghoon mumbles, finger idly poking the top of the cage. “The Smiths are definitely gonna be furious once they find out their bunnies have vanished.”

“Like _magic_ ,” Kevin says. No one laughs. “Someone had to do it! Geez, live a little.” Jacob lets a small smile slip, which makes the joke worth it.

“Why don’t we just walk?” Sunwoo suggests. He’s leaning on the wall, arms limp at his sides. He gets looks of concerns but waves them off. “I’m fine. Okay? Fresh air can clear my head.”

“I, um. I actually wouldn’t mind a walk,” Jacob proclaims. Kevin grins.

“I’m down,” Hyunjoon quips.

Kevin claps twice. “Okay, boys, majority rules! Heave-ho, we’ve got bunny lives to save.”

With Hyunjoon and Eric carrying the bottom of the cage, Kevin holds onto the top handle and follows Sunwoo (which, in actuality, is making sure he doesn’t stumble off the boardwalk and into the river). Jacob, Younghoon, and Changmin trail behind, chatting aimlessly. Younghoon seems to share a few interests with Kevin’s boyfriend, like an obsession with early 2000’s anime. They even talk about trading Pokémon cards, first and special editions, and Eric says that he, too, has a binder full of them.

Kevin eventually gets tired of carrying the cage, so he shoulders off the burden to Hyunjoon and Eric; he switches to holding out his phone to shine the flashlight as they walk. The younger two are fit, so they have no trouble on their own. It makes Kevin self-conscious; maybe he should try playing basketball with Jacob instead of acting as his #1 cheerleader. Sports aren’t his forté, but excercise would help his, well, health. All the coffee is messing with his blood pressure.

“Don’t you get sweaty?” Eric asks Hyunjoon. “You’re wearing all black. I’m talking about the daytime, when there’s sun.”

Hyunjoon shrugs. “It’s the small price to pay to look good.” Eric nods, impressed.

“Can’t relate,” Kevin says. “I normally dress myself, but Jacob is in charge of our outfits for formal events.”

“That’s cute,” Younghoon comments as Jacob ducks his head, bashful. “You guys match. The couple look is really nice, especially when you can pull it off. As a couple. Dating.”

“You appear to be quite the romantic,” Kevin says, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s barely the half of it,” Changmin snorts. He remains calm even as his best friend glares at him. “Younghoon’s always looking for love.”

“But I can’t seem to find it,” grumbles Younghoon. Jacob offers him a consoling pat on the back, while Sunwoo muffles a snicker. “I lost my original plus-one, y’know. He didn’t think we were good together.” He sighs. “I came to the wedding to support the happy couple, not wallow in my misery, quoting Changmin.”

“Bro, you’re a hottie!” Eric shouts, incredulous. “I don’t see why you can’t get a girlfriend. Boyfriend. Whatever suits your fancy.”

“Selective choosing?” Hyunjoon wonders aloud. “Or is it high standards?” He looks back at the three men behind him. “Or... something else entirely?”

Kevin notices Changmin avert his eyes, and maybe it is something else entirely.

“Who knows? Well, my exes do, but I’m not calling them anytime soon.” Younghoon stares at Sunwoo. “You’re pretty brave for coming to the wedding, even though your ex is literally in front of your face the whole time.”

When Sunwoo turns to them, Kevin’s phone light silhouetting his face, he suddenly looks sober and... tired. “He’s doing fine. That’s all I care about.”

The walk becomes more intimate after that — not in the way lovers are, but in an unexplainable atmosphere that mimics friendship. It’s like they’ve started to get to _know_ one another, past names and careers. Sharing these seemingly insignificant tidbits of information (and crimes) are bringing them closer. Kevin’s psychology degree is shaking in its frame next to the fridge.

They reach the edge of the forest before the moon is too high in the sky. Kevin makes sure to shine the light ahead; Changmin turns on his phone’s flashlight to shine at their feet, too. Younghoon trips over a root, despite this, and gets a nasty cut on the palm of his hand. Conveniently enough, Changmin has a spare Band-Aid in his back pocket, with an Iron Man pattern on it, and a rubbing alcohol wipe.

“Younghoon is prone to injury,” he explains. Younghoon rubs his injured hand, pouting. “I’d hate for him to bleed all over the place.”

Once they reach a clearing, Eric and Hyunjoon set down the cage. They’re a good enough distance away from oncoming traffic, and they’re not so deep into the forest that they’d get lost. With that in mind, this is the perfect location to release the rabbits. However, as they stand in silence around the cage, no one makes a move to do so. Frankly, Kevin hadn’t thought this much through at all. (But he won’t say that aloud or Jacob will give him the _I told you so_ eyes.)

“Hey, so, um.” Kevin scratches the back of his neck, lips quirking into a half-smile. “How should we go about this?”

Hyunjoon replies, “Open the cage, bunnies go free, badda-bing, badda-boom. We’re wanted men.” He pauses. “Wait, we were already wanted from the champagne, right?”

“Can’t prove it,” Sunwoo says, which reminds Kevin that the stolen bottle is nowhere in sight. Evidence at the crime scene that they’ll have to look for later, he supposes.

“What if they bite?” Eric asks, antsy. He gasps, paling, and whispers, “Rabies?”

“No,” Changmin says.

“Oh, thank God,” murmurs Sunwoo, barely audible.

“I feel like this is a very ‘easier said than done’ situation,” Kevin interjects. “Jacob? Thoughts?”

“I hate you.”

“Spouting lies will do you no good, baby.” Kevin snaps his fingers, looking towards the rest of them. “Who wants to open the cage? Any takers?”

“I’ll do it,” Changmin declares.

Younghoon immediately protests, stepping in front of his best friend and holding him still. “Changmin, no! What if you get hurt?” Changmin just shrugs, and Younghoon whines, “ _Changmin._ ”

“I’ll be okay,” Changmin assures, reaching to pat Younghoon’s cheek. The model resembles a saddened puppy, waiting at the doorstep after its owner leaves for work. Frowning, he steps aside for Changmin to reach the cage.

“Thanks for taking one for the team,” Hyunjoon says.

“The common good,” Kevin insists. “This was all in the name of justice.”

“We’re a pretty scrappy bunch of superheroes,” Sunwoo says. Jacob laughs at that remark, light.

“Everyone ready?” Changmin sits by the cage, hand poised near its door. Eric hides behind Younghoon, who hides behind Kevin. Hyunjoon watches with curiosity, and Jacob lets Sunwoo latch onto his arm as Changmin pries the cage open. “I’m doing it!”

The rabbits don’t take more than a second to flee from the cage. They bound outwards, nearly knocking Changmin over, and hop off into the forest. The rabbits scatter in all different directions, but they congregate close to one another as they keep moving. With phone flashlights equipped, the seven of them watch the rabbits go until their cottontails are well out of sight.

“Sweet freedom!” Eric hollers, jumping a foot in the air, arms pumped. “ _This_ is the American dream!”

**9:05 P.M.**

“Okay, so I’m really not into the singer,” Jaehyun drawls, flopping onto his chair. He’s worked up a sweat from being on the dance floor, as has Juyeon. They’re taking a rest now, rehydrating, while Hyuksoo and Lu play the garter belt game. As for the other groomsmen: Sangyeon is drunk off Heineken, flirting with Minji, and Haknyeon is hovering around the desserts table again, snapping the tongs like a baby crab.

“Did you get told off for being sleazy?” Juyeon asks, chuckling.

“Untrue.” Jaehyun waits about three seconds before saying, “Okay, partially true.”

Laughing, Juyeon shakes his head. “You’re the worst.”

“Let’s call off the bet,” Jaehyun suggests.

“I haven’t even talked to him yet! Plus, we didn’t really make a true bet in the first place.”

“So, no bet.” Jaehyun grins. “Thank you for your consideration. I may’ve ended up handing you the keys to my Maserati.”

Juyeon frowns. “Don’t you own a Ford?”

Jaehyun shrugs, which is worriedly cryptic. “Can’t wait to get plastered,” he sings, downing the last of his drink. He taps his glass on the table, sliding out of the chair. “Off to make nice with Mr. Bartender.”

“You do that,” Juyeon says. “I’m going to go talk to the singer. Ask him for a dance.”

Jaehyun scoffs, “You’re so disgustingly boring.”

“The boys like that sometimes,” Juyeon proclaims, and when Jaehyun gags, it’s not because of the alcohol.

**9:15 P.M.**

The sky is beautiful — darkness, speckled with white. Whenever Changmin stumbles across a capture-worthy skyline, he whips out his phone to save the view. He loves the way the clouds occupy the background, smears of gray or puffs of white. He has an entire folder dedicated to the skies, nearly six-hundred photos since he’d started doing it in college. His sister tells him he’ll run out of room, but he’s not worried. If he needs to clean out his storage, all he needs to do is delete Younghoon’s spam selfies; he’s been meaning to do that anyway but has never gotten around to it.

Right now, the guests of _Table 19_ are stargazing what they can in the suburban sky. After letting the rabbits go, they’d decided to sit down and take a breather. Hyunjoon and Eric need it the most, the former propped with his back against a tree trunk and the latter sprawled on the grass. Jacob and Kevin are sitting beside one another, hands intertwined. Sunwoo sits on a lone stump. Cross-legged, Changmin has Younghoon’s head on his lap, with Younghoon curled in on himself like he’s ready for bed.

None of them seem to care about the state of their dress, but it’s okay. They’re not even at a wedding anymore, technically. Changmin tucks a leaf behind Younghoon’s ear and smiles.

“Pretty wild night, right?” A laugh escapes past Eric’s lips, giddy. “I just met you guys, but, like, I would totally go rob a bank with this crew.”

“Aren’t you, like, twelve?” Sunwoo scoffs.

“I’m twenty!” Eric growls angrily, sitting up. He looks around, cheeks reddening, and wraps his arms around his knees. “I’m twenty,” he repeats, softer but with feeling.

“Hey, sorry, I—” Sunwoo closes his mouth. “I didn’t mean it, Eric. It was a joke.”

“I know.” Eric heaves a sigh. “It’s just— just hard, man. People tell me that all the time, calling me a baby. Ironically, it gets old.”

Jacob asks, careful, “What’s wrong with that? You don’t like it?”

“When you get treated like you’re a newborn, no one ever takes you seriously. No one listens to you. No one cares for your opinion. No one _cares_ if you’ve got a driver’s license, buy lotto tickets, and can vote, because you still live at your parents’ house and got a curfew.”

“Is that why you came to this wedding?”

Eric glances at Jacob, unable to give him a clear answer. “I came to this wedding to prove to myself, mostly, that I can handle this. I can handle being an adult. I can be mature, and thoughtful, and well-spoken.” He picks at a blade of grass. “And I’d promised myself no underage drinking, even though I’m twenty-one in December.”

“You’ve got willpower,” Younghoon says, which Changmin knows is sincere.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ve proven anything. I’m just a boy with no clue how to act like an adult.”

Kevin counters, “Every adult is faking it to make it. Facts.”

“I...” Eric cracks an unsure grin. “I don’t know about that.”

“No one really knows what they’re doing,” Jacob goes on. “Even as an adult, whoever’s judging you had to have been a kid at some point. They just sucked it up and... adjusted mindsets. Whatever experience you’re going through, I’m sure you’re not alone.” Holding out a peace sign, he admits, “I still get carded at clubs and bars.”

The confession gets the rest of them to laugh. “Okay,” Eric says, “that’s kind of hilarious.”

“Feel any better?” Changmin asks. Eric nods.

Kevin turns to Hyunjoon, who’s kicking up dirt. “You look like you’ve got something to say, too, fashionista.”

Hyunjoon snorts, but Kevin is as serious as can be. It takes a second, but he eventually crosses his arms and relents. “I’m related to Hyuksoo, but... Truth be told, nobody wanted me here.” He takes a short breath, eyes closing.

“I ran away from home after senior year of high school. Took all my birthday money and lived with a friend near the university. My parents didn’t support my dream, so I had to get out of there. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, if I gave up just like that.

“So, I cut off all contact with them. My younger sister I still talk to, occasionally, but I haven’t seen her in person. I’ve been completely out of touch with my parents. No money gets sent to me, but I have a really good scholarship that covers most of my tuition. And I also work a few jobs to pay for whatever’s leftover, my phone bill, rent.

“Honestly, I barely talk to my extended family. Everyone knows I abandoned my mom and dad, so they don’t make much of an effort to check on me. I’m the black sheep of the lot.”

It’s a lot of information all at once, and no one knows how to respond. Hyunjoon doesn’t look fazed after saying all this, but he does show that nervous tick. Tap, tap, tap—

“What’s your dream?” asks Eric. Hyunjoon looks at him and smiles.

“Dancing,” Hyunjoon answers. “I want to choreograph. Hopefully, I’ll be able to teach at my own studio. Make a name for myself.

“I... don’t know how I got the wedding invitation, to be honest. I haven’t talked to Hyuksoo in years. Like, how’d they even get my address?” He ducks his head. “After everything I’ve done, I couldn’t bear going to the ceremony, but... I came to the reception to give them my well-wishes. Even still, I’ve been hiding from everyone. I don’t know if the newlyweds even saw me; I haven’t said hi.”

“We can do that when we get back,” Kevin declares, getting up to shake Hyunjoon’s hand. “ _All_ of us.”

“Whoever sent you that invitation wanted you here,” Changmin adds. “Don’t tell yourself that you’re unwanted.”

Hyunjoon’s whole demeanor shifts to relief. He gives Kevin, who’s the closest to him, a hug that looks warm and comforting. It’s definitely a gesture he’s needed, the way he folds forward, hands curling into the fabric of Kevin’s shirt. Kevin accepts it without objection, murmuring words that only Hyunjoon can hear. It resembles a reunion between long-lost brothers.

A question, soft and hesitant, comes from Jacob next. “Can I get something off my chest, too?”

“Role-reversal,” Younghoon says. “I love it.” Jacob smiles, but he keeps his gaze locked on Kevin for confirmation. Confused, Kevin nods.

“Kevin, I really love you,” Jacob starts. His eyes turn downcast. “But... I’m boring. I’m shy. I’m not like you: sociable, talented, funny... I’m not the best boyfriend, but I want you to be happy.” He tugs on the hem of his pants, words tumbling out of his mouth, “Even if something happens and we’re not— not together anymore, I hope you can still say that you were happy with me.”

The fact that Jacob can finish his sentence even as Kevin tackles him to the ground is shocking. Jacob yelps as he falls backwards, the weight literally knocking him breathless. Kevin pushes himself up to place his hands on Jacob’s face, peppering kisses on every inch of his skin — to his temple, his forehead, his chin, his nose, his lips.

“You’re clueless,” Kevin says, annoyed yet affectionate. “Don’t doubt yourself for a second. I love you. You’re more amazing than you make yourself out to be.” He kisses Jacob once more and then sits back on his heels. “Now, shut up. I love you.”

“You said that already,” Jacob murmurs, cheeks pink, and it’s like they’ve fallen into their own little world, where only the two of them matter. Intimate, in the romantic way.

The sky is beautiful. There’s a satellite traversing across it, a dot of red against the canvas. Owls are starting to compose a song, hoots as notes on the scale. The lonely silhouette of a man who believes his love doesn’t wait for him is silent.

“Sunwoo,” Kevin urges.

Sunwoo grunts listlessly. He’s had to have been listening, but he shows no sign of interest. “What?” he says, but there’s a delicacy to his voice.

“It’s your turn to share,” Eric proclaims. “Unless Younghoon and Changmin have anything to say.”

“I like free alcohol,” Younghoon declares, “so that’s the main reason why I’m here.”

“And I’m the designated driver,” Changmin adds. _All for Younghoon_ , he doesn’t say aloud. “Done and done. Now, Sunwoo?”

“I didn’t sign up for a therapy session. I’ve got nothing to say about Haknyeon.” Sunwoo realizes a second too late that he’d let the name slip and runs his hand down his face. “Damn it.”

“You’ve said two things already: Haknyeon is your ex-boyfriend, and you miss him.” Jacob smiles. “We won’t judge you, Sunwoo, for whatever you say and whatever happened.”

They wait for him. There’s no reason to rush, so they wait. Sunwoo struggles to get his story out, commas and question marks lodged in his throat. When he does, though, it’s too muttered to hear all but the last word.

“... proposed.”

Kevin, who, Changmin has learned, has very little tact, shrieks, “You asked him to _marry you?_ ”

“He asked _me_ to marry _him_ ,” Sunwoo sneers, jaw clenched. “Get it right.”

“What happened? Is that why you broke up?” Eric gasps, overdramatic. “Oh, my God, you must’ve said no!”

“I didn’t— Well, I did, but...” Sunwoo tugs at the grass, throwing it in Eric’s direction. “We don’t live together. We’ve only been dating for, what, three years? We’re still in our undergrad, paying off school loans. We’re definitely not mature enough to be _married_.” He looks down. “I had to say no.”

Younghoon inquires, then, curious, “How’d he propose?”

Sunwoo brings his head up, and his words are precise. “It wasn’t grand or anything. We were at his apartment. Haknyeon tried to make cream pasta for dinner, but he forgot the salt and it tasted like wet napkins. So I ordered Chinese take-out, even though it tastes fake and greasy, and we spent hours watching _Say Yes to the Dress_ and _Four Weddings_.” He laughs, as if remembering a joke that only he knows.

“During a commercial about Oxiclean or Tide, Haknyeon took the last dumpling and said, ‘Let’s get married.’ Just like that.”

“Whoa,” Eric says. “Haknyeon... He’s really out there.”

“I should take a shot with him,” Younghoon declares.

Sunwoo snorts, but it falls on hushed lips. “I started to argue, after he ‘proposed.’ I told him we couldn’t. My family’s never liked him. We wouldn’t be able to afford it. I kept naming excuse after excuse.

“But he kept telling me... telling me that we could do it. That we could overcome all that.”

After Sunwoo stops talking, like he’d lost his place on the page, Hyunjoon prompts, “So? What happened after that?”

“I walked out,” Sunwoo whispers. “I left him. I don’t know why, I just— I needed a reason to say no, for him to take it back, because I couldn’t let him throw away his life for me.

“It’s been two weeks. Fourteen days. I don’t know the math for hours... I thought long and hard whether or not to come here, to the wedding. I haven’t talked to him since. I haven’t even seen him.” Sunwoo says, even quieter, “Why would he want to see me?”

Changmin can’t put himself in Sunwoo’s shoes. He’s never been in a relationship so powerful that would exhaust him of his reason. He’s never experienced losing someone even though he was the one who left. He’s never been afraid to face his fears. He’s Changmin Ji, raised by his sisters, who told him that he shouldn’t let the universe push him around, that his fate is what he makes of it.

 _Love is love_ , he remembers scribbling at the corner of his notebook, the day after he’d turned eighteen, when Younghoon gifted him a silver charm bracelet with an oxygen molecule on it.

“Because you’re all I need to survive,” Younghoon had said. “I tried learning science for you, Changmin!”

_1 Corinthians 13._

Changmin is patient, which is why Younghoon is able to steal half his fries even though he says he isn’t hungry. Changmin is kind, because he lets Younghoon sleep on his bed, throwing a blanket over him so his feet don’t get cold. Changmin is not envious of those who receive Younghoon’s affection; Changmin does not boast when it’s him. Changmin doesn’t get angry when Younghoon breaks buttons off Changmin’s keyboard, loses the spare key to Changmin’s apartment, forgets to tell Changmin he’s dating someone new. Changmin protects, trusts, hopes, and endures all things, but he wonders at what cost.

He wonders, too, why he hasn’t told Younghoon that he’d move mountains for him, that he’d capture the stars to bring a smile to his face, that he’d fall in love with him over and over again at the ripe age of eighteen — but that’s a matter to dwell on later.

Kevin throws some crisping leaves at Sunwoo. “You’re secretly a huge softie, aren’t you? You put up a harsh front as a defense mechanism. You don’t want to be hurt and you don’t want others to see you hurting.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” Sunwoo barks without bite. He sounds so hollow, so vulnerable.

“Talk with him,” Jacob urges. “Tell him that you’re scared. He’ll understand.”

“I’m not—” Sunwoo stares at the sky like it’ll answer for him. It doesn’t. “I can’t do that,” he says. “I’m supposed to be the sturdy rock for him to lean on. I _can’t_ be scared.”

Kevin says, much like Changmin would imagine a psychologist would, “If that’s the case, then why aren’t you there for him now?”

Sunwoo doesn’t respond. Instead, they get up and start their trek back to the reception hall, leaving behind trivialities, misunderstandings, and an empty metal cage.

**10:10 P.M.**

When Sunwoo was in high school, he’d wanted everything placed in the palm of his hand. He’d felt that his hard work deserved reward, as all hot-headed teens do. Star striker of the soccer team meant that getting the championship title was a given. Outspoken member of the debate team meant that the discourse about Asian representation in the media, universal healthcare, renewable sources of energy symbolized a future he’d helped shape. Coming out to his family meant acceptance.

After graduating, there was a shift that he still doesn’t know the cause of. Maybe it was leaving his identity in the suburbs he’d grown up in, abruptly becoming one in twenty-thousand, letting his family forget who he has always been and always will be.

He’d stopped playing soccer. He wasn’t in any clubs. He stayed in the comfort of his dorm, playing Overwatch or Fortnite or whatever video game that could eat away at his brain. No one bothered to break his shell, and he was sure five people at most bothered to know his name. Sunwoo’s motivation to get a degree hung by a thread.

When he met Haknyeon, there was another shift.

Brian Haknyeon Ju, business major and nutrition minor, one year older than Sunwoo. He came from a town of less than a thousand, of cornland and spotty wifi, wanting to branch out and learn about life and the world. Living at an apartment off-campus, he commuted via bus to classes every day. He worked part-time at a diner and part-time in the school’s rec center. He dyed his hair brown, then blond, then red, then blond with orange highlights, and then brown again.

They had calculus together, and Sunwoo learned all those things about him in their first five minutes of conversation.

Haknyeon loved to talk, loved to say whatever was on his mind. As they sat beside one another for the semester, they exchanged information to meet and study. The study sessions were often in groups, but sometimes it would just be Sunwoo and Haknyeon, sitting in the computer lab, messing with Maple to try and plot parametric surfaces.

“I understand now,” Haknyeon had announced, once.

Sunwoo had given him a look, doubtful. “Do you? Seriously? Can you explain this shit to me?”

“Math? Oh, no, not math.” Haknyeon had grinned. “I was thinking that I understand _you_ now. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Honestly, he wasn’t, but Sunwoo went along with it, left the computer lab to walk to the frozen yogurt place ten blocks away. He and Sunwoo shared a cup of original and white peach, topped with mochi and fruit-flavored popping boba. Haknyeon inhaled almost all of it, so he bought Sunwoo another one, let the younger male sprinkle mint chocolate chips and gummy worms and cereal pieces onto it. They argued over their preferences, sweet over tart, fresh fruit over candy. Sunwoo kept pulling the cup from Haknyeon, who hates the taste of mint chocolate but loves gummies.

Haknyeon made him _feel_ like someone again. He asked Sunwoo if the space in his heart was free and took residence the second he could, and he’s lived there ever since.

If Sunwoo could turn back time, he would’ve stayed that night in Haknyeon’s apartment instead of running out the door. He would’ve stayed, kissed Haknyeon’s hand, and told him, “I love you.” They’d talk about the proposal. Maybe he would’ve still said no, or maybe he would’ve changed his mind to yes. Maybe he just needed to be held in Haknyeon’s arms to figure out the right answer.

Sunwoo can’t turn back time, but he sure as hell is going to try the next best thing.

When _Table 19_ returns to their base, the reception is in full swing. The band is playing hits from the last decade, Maroon 5 to Big Bang to Ariana Grande, loud and proud. Servers are trying to clear tables. The bar is open, hoards of drunken men and women waving around dollar bills. Guests are on the dance floor. The head table is empty, which means the wedding party must be there, too, or scattered sporadically throughout the building. There’s only one person who matters to Sunwoo, and he can see the head of auburn hair even from this far corner of the hall.

“You can do this,” Jacob assures. Sunwoo nods.

Hyunjoon asks, “Do you want me to take a video? I’ll send you the Snap.” Sunwoo laughs and politely declines.

“We’re here for you, Sunwoo,” Younghoon says. “All you have to do is—”

“I know. I know what to do. I’m just... nervous.” Sunwoo loosens his tie, exhaling. “Wish me luck, guys.”

The easy way to do this would be to pull Haknyeon out of the crowd. No one would notice, one dancing body stolen from the bunch of others. It’d take a second, a K-drama-like pull of the wrist. With that, there’s an inherent dominance that Sunwoo doesn’t care for, that Haknyeon has never liked on the screen, but the action would get the job done. He would get to say what he’s been meaning to say, and Haknyeon would listen.

Unfortunately, Sunwoo Kim has never been one for _the easy way_.

Climbing onto the stage, pushing the wedding singer aside, Sunwoo grabs a hold of the microphone stand and breathes.

“HEY!” The feedback from the speakers make Sunwoo startle, but he grips onto the microphone, determined. “Haknyeon, I know you can hear me!”

Everyone can hear him. He’s silenced the whole dance floor, for God’s sake. The guitarist and bassist end on the wrong strum. The drummer loses his beat. Three hundred pairs of eyes stare at Sunwoo, waiting for him to say something, anything. He has nothing to offer two hundred and ninety-nine pairs of ears, because his words are saved for one.

“Sunwoo? Sunwoo!” It’s Hyuksoo, the man of the day, with his arm around Lu’s waist. He’s drunk, slurring, “Yo, what’s up, kiddo?”

“Hi, Sunwoo!” Lu chirps.

Hands getting slicker with sweat, Sunwoo grasps the microphone and speaks into it, “Hey, yeah, congrats, you two. Loving the wedding. I’m just looking for—”

“What do you want?”

It’s strange, actually, how Sunwoo loses all his fight at the sound of Haknyeon’s voice. He’s stepped a foot from the stage, hands fisted at his sides. There’s sweat along his brow, and Sunwoo wants to find a napkin and wipe it clean, get a pack of ice to press against his neck. It’s too domestic of a gesture to return to — not yet, not now. Sunwoo came here for a reason.

“Haknyeon, please, I need to tell you—” Sunwoo whips his head to the side, where the wedding singer has begun jabbing at his arm, and hisses, “Hey, would you cool it? Trying to have a moment here.”

“You don’t need to be on my mic for that,” the man says, eyes narrowed.

Sunwoo lets go of the microphone stand. “Okay, Celine Dion. I’ll get out of your hair.” With a pointed glare at the wedding singer (whom he mentally notes to write a scathing review for, if the night ends badly), he jumps off the stage and walks towards Haknyeon.

“Can we talk, Haknyeon? Alone.”

Haknyeon doesn’t give him a nod. He takes Sunwoo’s hand and leads them out of the hall, past the noise. Outside, where the valet attendants get the hint and give them space. Together, where they exist, finally, side-by-side. The breeze is gentle, coaxing, encouraging.

When Haknyeon lets go, that’s Sunwoo’s cue.

“Listen—”

“I’ve missed you,” Haknyeon interrupts.

Sunwoo’s breath catches. He swallows and tries again. “Listen, Haknyeon, I—”

“I’ve really missed you.” Haknyeon closes his mouth. He’s got that glint in his eye, like he wants to say it a thousand more times, like he won’t stop until the whole world has heard him. He watches Sunwoo, pulls a stray leaf from his hair, and whispers, “Okay, sorry, talk.”

“I missed you, too.” Sunwoo hadn’t meant to say that, but he can’t stop himself. He wraps his arms around Haknyeon — or maybe Haknyeon wraps his arms around him first, who knows? — and breathes in the scent of orange-infused conditioner and alcohol. “God, Haknyeon, I missed you so much.”

This should be enough. Having Haknyeon in his arms should be enough. Letting Haknyeon latch onto him should be enough, so tightly they might burst. The Sunwoo-sized space in Haknyeon’s embrace. They’re meant for one another.

“We don’t have to get married.”

The statement is muffled in Sunwoo’s shirt, felt more than heard. Sunwoo lets it hang in the air, and Haknyeon sighs shakily as he continues.

“I’d rather have you than not. We don’t need rings or tax benefits, hyphenated last names or a registry. We don’t need any of that. All I want is to be with you.”

Sunwoo pulls back, looks Haknyeon straight in the eyes. “Do you still love me?” he asks, because he doesn’t want any regrets.

“Undoubtedly.”

“One day,” Sunwoo says, “I’ll ask you to marry me.”

Haknyeon scowls. “Sunwoo, no, weren’t you listening? I said, we don’t have to—”

“Then, we can have a big ceremony. With all our friends, and I’ll tell my family that they’ve got to love us or leave.” Sunwoo tucks a lock of Haknyeon’s hair behind his ear, gentle. “It can be in a church, or on a farm, or at the planetarium. I heard they do weddings, like at that apple farm we visited last November. And we can bring in a pianist. Have them play the classic _Canon in D_ or the OST from Descendants of the Sun.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.” Sunwoo has a weak heart, so he struggles to hold back tears. “I was scared of losing you, because we might not be cut out for weddings right now. I thought—”

“We— We can have buffet-style for dinner, where we can taste-test every dish beforehand,” Haknyeon stutters. Sunwoo chuckles, heart full. “Hell, a whole lot of the food tonight was disgusting.”

“I’ll bet.” Sunwoo kisses Haknyeon, short and sweet, a promise hidden in the press of the lips. “Missed dinner, but I don’t think I’d want it anyway.”

“You’ve got to eat something. Try the desserts. It’s impossible to mess up slices of cantaloupe and watermelon.” Haknyeon wrinkles his nose. “The coffee is shit, though.”

Sunwoo frowns. “I hate coffee.”

“I know, but it never hurts to try and convince you.”

The night is chilly, but Haknyeon’s hands are warm. Sunwoo can’t see the stars, which is perfectly fine. Haknyeon grins, for him, and _that’s_ enough.

“You’re okay with waiting?” Sunwoo asks, tentative. He can hear his own fear, but Haknyeon’s reassurance eases it effortlessly.

“As long as I’m yours and you’re mine, I can wait as long as you need.”

**10:45 P.M.**

After Sunwoo leaves the hall with Haknyeon, the music starts up again as if there was no interruption to begin with. Jacob wonders if the wedding party had expected Sunwoo to confront Haknyeon here, of all places, of all occasions. _Table 19_ had been rooting for him the whole minute and a half he was on the stage. Sunwoo had pulled the climax of the ideal modern rom-com, hands on the microphone, Haknyeon’s name on his lips — the suggestion had been by Younghoon, movie and romance enthusiast.

Now, they wait.

Well, not really. Hyunjoon had gone off to find his parents, Eric tagging along for moral support. Younghoon is getting drinks for the table. It’s just Jacob, Kevin, and Changmin, resting their legs and dusting dirt off their slacks. They eat remnants of cake and fruit, their original dinner plates nowhere to be seen. It’s relaxing, almost, amidst the music, which has temporarily been switched to a generic wedding playlist, blasting through the speakers, while the band takes a break.

Younghoon returns with a drink for each of them. As he’s setting the glasses down, the bride and groom march to the table and ambush him.

“Younghoon, man, you made it!” Hyuksoo exclaims, slinging his arm around the model’s shoulders.

“Oh, we were so worried you weren’t going to come,” Lu says. “We’ve seen your ads all over the place, busybody... Also, we tried coming to your table earlier to greet you, but no one was here!”

“I took a much needed break to attend,” Younghoon admits. The other guests at the table share a knowing look at Lu’s remark. “Anyway, congratulations! The wedding’s been fantastic. You look ethereal, Lu.”

“Thank you! We’re glad you’re having fun!” Lu turns to Changmin. “Are you Christopher?”

“No, I’m Changmin. I’ve got the best friend title.” Changmin shakes both Hyuksoo and Lu’s hands, taken aback by how strong Hyuksoo’s grip is.

“I have that title, too! Along with husband! Ha!” Hyuksoo plants a kiss on Lu’s cheek and then slaps Changmin on the back. “Glad to have you here, buddy!” Changmin nods, wincing.

Lu directs her attention to the two others at the table, quickly maneuvering to hug them. “Kevin, Jacob, goodness — it’s been so long!” She pulls back, smiling. “You guys are _so cute_ together.”

“I landed me a big catch,” Kevin says happily. “Did I say that right? It’s a fishing metaphor, but I don’t fish.”

“He’s a handful—” Jacob grins, “—but I love him.”

“I remember when you guys were at my studio,” Lu reminisces. “Such natural talent! You inspired me, really. I love what I do, but it was so much more worth it to see my students prosper.”

“We never became singers,” Jacob says. He’s not regretful; he and Kevin sing as a hobby, at open mic nights or in the kitchen.

“Yes, I know, but! I saw you fall in _love._ ” Lu pinches Kevin’s cheek. “I remember all the serenades you wanted to sing to Jacob, all the songs you wanted to write for him. You had a lot of good ones!”

Oh, Jacob hadn’t known that. He glances at Kevin, who burns bright red and chuckles nervously. It’s heartwarming and deserves a kiss. Albeit embarrassed, Kevin accepts and then takes a large gulp of his appletini.

“Invite us to _your_ wedding,” Hyuksoo declares, which causes Kevin to choke and Jacob to laugh. “I can give you tips! First and foremost, wear a watch. Timing is everything.”

As Changmin hands him a napkin, Kevin proclaims, “We’ll keep that in mind.”

They talk for a while longer. During that time, Sunwoo and Haknyeon come to the table, and another round of greetings descend upon them. They look content, like the pieces have fallen into place. Jacob watches Sunwoo closely and, after Sunwoo sends a thumbs-up his way, concludes that _Table 19_ ’s help resulted in something magical.

“Come on, guys!” Hyuksoo shouts. “Let’s go dance!”

**11:30 P.M.**

Fast-paced songs can only go for so long, Younghoon thinks, slouched in his chair. As the night goes on, the energy settles into a comfortable lull. The wedding singer — Chanhee, he’d introduced himself, when Younghoon tried taking a shot with him — is singing ballads and R&B love songs. Mostly couples remain on the dance floor, with the newlyweds taking the center. Sunwoo and Haknyeon dance like old lovers, close and quiet, as if they’ve been together for decades. Jacob and Kevin are there as well, and Younghoon can almost hear them singing along.

Eric is chatting with one of the groomsman, sitting on the ledge of the stage. The groomsman doesn’t appear to be listening to him, more focused on the band — Chanhee, specifically. Hyunjoon, who doesn’t seem to hold his liquor well, is dancing with his mother, cheek perched in her hair, clinging to her like a koala.

At _Table 19_ , Younghoon sits with his best friend next to him. Water is his friend, too, and Younghoon wipes the condensation from his glass onto Changmin. Changmin doesn’t mind.

“Things worked out for everybody,” Younghoon says. “Sunwoo got back with Haknyeon. Hyunjoon made up with his parents. Eric is an adult. Jacob and Kevin are in love... I’m happy for them.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Younghoon stares at Changmin. He doesn’t look any different from the Changmin an hour ago, the Changmin yesterday, or the Changmin six years ago. His hair color may’ve changed a few times, his cheeks losing baby fat, but the steady gaze of his eyes has always been the same. Changmin can look at Younghoon for a nanosecond and know all the things Younghoon needs at once. It’s strange, how lost he would be without Changmin.

“Hey, Changmin.”

“Hm?”

Attention trained on the heels and dress shoes of waltzing lovers, Younghoon’s mind buzzes with the last hour’s remains of alcohol. “Do you... do you think I’ll get someone to pour their heart out to me at someone else’s wedding? Someone to slow dance to Ed Sheeran with?” It hurts, what he says next. “Marry me and fall in love with the mess that I am?”

“That depends.” Changmin makes Younghoon turn to him. His eyes have that sparkle, his smile soft. “When are you going to stop giving your heart to people who don’t deserve it?”

Younghoon shrugs, bowing his head. “How should I know? I’m hopeless.” Suddenly, he sees Changmin’s hand swiftly press at the front of his chest to then bring to his own. Younghoon squints at him, confused. “What are you doing?”

“I _stole_ it. Like that bottle of champagne Sunwoo smuggled from the kitchen. Like that cage of bunnies we set free.” Changmin opens his palm, which contains nothing but skin and air. “Can’t you see? I’m holding your heart in my hand. It’s a little broken, not too big, but I can feel it beating.”

“My heart,” Younghoon repeats. Instead of a figurative heart, all he sees Changmin, grinning that dimpled grin.

“I want it to beat for me, some day, if you’ll let it.” Changmin stands, closing his hand into a fist. “If you want it back, you’ll have to come dance to ‘Perfect’ with me.”

Good things come to those who wait, but maybe Younghoon’s good thing has been waiting this whole time.

“No, you can keep it,” Younghoon says, and maybe his heart rests in Changmin’s hand, where it’s always been beating, “but I still want that dance.”

**12:00 A.M.**

“Do you want a ride home?” Eric asks, watching as Hyunjoon glides into the splits in the middle of the long since deserted dance floor. “I’m sober. I’ve been nursing kiddie cocktails ever since we came back from our freedom fight.”

Hyunjoon cracks open an eye. There’s a shade of pink on his cheeks, the result of several tall glasses of peach soju. “You’re a good guy, Eric,” he says, the corners of his lips curling upwards. “Offering to drive li’l ol’ me back to the city.”

“You took an Uber here, right?”

“Lyft,” Hyunjoon says. He sits up, pouting and rubbing his eyes like a baby woken from a nap. “Uber is too scary... Drive me, please?”

“I offered!” Eric laughs. He pulls Hyunjoon to his feet, stumbling when Hyunjoon drapes the entirety of his weight onto him. “God, Hyunjoon, you serious?”

“My legs are broken.”

Eric scoffs, “Drama king.”

He supposes Hyunjoon deserves to be a drunken idiot now. When he was trying to talk to his parents, the dancer must’ve felt like he’d vibrate out of his skin earlier. The conversation hadn’t been more than surface level, _how are you_ s and _you look well_ s. (Hyunjoon’s sister, dressed in a long, fuschia dress, neck iced with jewelry, who came over the moment she saw Hyunjoon, said, “Hey, brother.” And then she left to find the group of teenage cousins, playing card games in the lobby.) It’d looked like they were the type to talk with actions, and when Hyunjoon’s mother asked her son to dance, that felt like a win.

Unintentionally, Eric had become friendly with Hyunjoon’s father. They’d talked about sports but mainly baseball, discovering that the both of them support the Los Angeles Angels. Eric had explained his bias towards the city; much of his family lives there, and he wants to live along the beach one day. Hyunjoon’s father guffawed, saying he’d want the same for his retirement. While it was odd, getting familiarized with a stranger’s family, merely drunk on good times, Eric kind of liked it.

Later, he’d gotten to rekindle with old friends. Lu had seen him chatting with Juyeon, who Eric happened to know through mutual association, and sat with him for nearly half an hour. She was a little more than tipsy, but she was heartfelt in her conversation with him, asking how he’s doing in school, if he’s happy with his life, when is he turning twenty-one so she can buy him a beer. As his former babysitter, she’d declared, she must oversee his drinking habits to make sure he doesn’t make a fool out of himself in front of potential suitors. Saying this while missing the straw to her mouth, however, made it funnier.

There are also the new friends, unexpectedly, that came from tonight. Jacob and Kevin, Canada natives who are the definition of soulmates. Changmin and Younghoon, best friends that are potentially developing into something more. Sunwoo, a brusque yet humble guest close to his age, as well as Haknyeon, who treats Eric like a little brother the second they get introduced.

And then there’s Hyunjoon.

“Don’t puke in my Audi,” Eric declares, stern, leading Hyunjoon off the dance floor. After some thought, he amends, “Actually, I got plastic bags somewhere in my glove compartment, so just don’t puke on the rugs. They’re WeatherTech.”

“Handsome man,” Hyunjoon slurs, cheerful. His expression is that of ignorant bliss as his fingers aimlessly pinch at Eric’s cheek. “Manly man. With manners. _Man_ ners.”

“Thanks,” Eric says.

“Strong man!”

With Hyunjoon hanging off his side, Eric says goodbye to the bride and groom, who are sitting with their parents at _Table 3_. They thank him (and Hyunjoon) for coming. Eric gets about two steps out of the hall before getting stopped by a curly-haired woman. She looks familiar for some reason, but he can’t place it. Her smile appears anxious.

“Sorry to bother, but have you seen a cage anywhere? The party next door misplaced... Well, they lost a few rabbits.”

“Nope,” Eric answers hastily. This woman must be from the Smiths’ wedding. Yikes. “Haven’t seen a thing!”

“Damn,” she mutters. “Between you and me, sweetheart, those weren’t even house pets. One of the uncles is a hunter and caught a bunch of rabbits in the forest down the road. We were going to let them loose after the bride and groom said, ‘I do.’”

“Uh-huh.” Eric doesn’t feel a shred of guilt for what _Table 19_ accomplished tonight.

“Hopefully they just ran off, back to their rabbit holes,” she says, more to herself than Eric. “It’d be a shame if something bad happened to them.”

Hyunjoon lolls his head to the side, staring curiously at her. “Like being captured from their homes to be unjustly utilized for human entertainment?” Then, he blows a raspberry, because he can.

The woman steps back, out of the spray zone, sneering, “Is your friend okay?”

“He’s more than okay. He’s just peachy.” Eric lifts Hyunjoon higher so his arm can go around Eric’s neck. “Now, I’ve got a dancer to drive home. Excuse me, Miss Ma’am. Have a nice night.”

With that said, Hyuksoo and Lu’s wedding officially ends. Eric catches Sunwoo on the way out, Haknyeon’s hand in one of his, a flute of champagne in the other, fixing the sign-in board.


	2. *11.02.2024*

**7:55 A.M.**

_Take me to London, Paris, New York City_ __  
_Falling into these beautiful cities_ __  
_Like I’m a bird, bird, like the flying birds_  
_Freely fly, fly, I can breathe_

The March sun is already perched in the sky, but that means nothing to the couple, cuddled cozily in bed.

“Changmin,” Younghoon whines, pulling the covers over his head. “Your phone is too loud.”

“It’s _your_ phone, and it’ll stop after the chorus,” Changmin murmurs. Ten more seconds go by, and then the music cuts off. Younghoon sighs. “See? All done.”

Half a minute later, the Super Mario Power Up Sound resounds from the other phone. Four times. Younghoon wants to cry.

“ _Changmin_.”

Huffing, Changmin hits Younghoon with the nearest Pikachu plushie, reaching onto the nightstand to grab both their phones. “You’re a big baby, you know that?”

“ _Your_ big baby,” Younghoon declares, muffled by the sheets. He pops his head out, so only his eyes show, and asks, “Who called?”

“Jacob,” Changmin says, “and Kevin just texted me, too.” Skimming through the message, he explains, “He asked about our address. We should be getting a save-the-date sometime next week. It should’ve come this week, but they accidentally put an address that didn’t exist for us.”

Younghoon props himself on his elbows to squint at the screen. “That looks like my address,” he confirms.

“Looks like mine, too.” Changmin types a reply to Kevin and falls back on the bed. Younghoon snuggles against his side, pressing a kiss onto Changmin’s neck. “I hope— Ah, I hope they put stamps on the letters. My sister almost didn’t.”

“Oh, the countless things that can go wrong at a wedding.” Younghoon grins lazily. “I hope they have good champagne.”

**10:50 A.M.**

Hyunjoon’s beginners’ dance class starts in the morning on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The studio isn’t officially his, but he’s one of the choreographers that helps run _10/10_. He’s responsible for teaching a few classes every quarter, organizing showcases, and also the social media. It’s simple, but never tedious.

There are around fifteen participants this session, which is normal. The ages range from teenagers to adults, learning the basics of dancing and how to make it their own. Hyunjoon enforces the idea that dancing isn’t taught but felt, and he’s only giving them the tools to build a foundation. Music is a guide, and the journey is every nerve in the body mapping out the way.

In the middle of the lesson, Hyunjoon sees a figure approaching the door. He stops the lesson and turns off the music, thinking it’s another instructor to check on the class. He goes to open it but is surprised to see the door crack open before he can.

“Knock, knock!” A dark head of hair appears from behind the door. “I come with bagels!” Eric scans the room. “Uh, only enough for two, though. Sorry, class.”

Biting back a grin, Hyunjoon grabs a towel and tells his students, “Let’s take a break. Ten minutes!”

“I’m borrowing him!” Eric yells as they head out of the practice room. Hyunjoon rolls his eyes.

Taking them to the nearest staircase, Hyunjoon sits on the step below Eric and sings, “Long time, no see!” He looks at the brown paper bag. “Panera Bread?”

“Boy, you know it! I got strawberry, blueberry, and original cream cheese.” Eric stacks the containers on top of one another until he finally gets to a bagel, handing Hyunjoon an asiago cheese while taking the plain for himself. “And it’s only been a few months, drama king. Long time, my ass.”

Hyunjoon shrugs, spreading blueberry and strawberry cream cheese on his bagel. He takes a bite. “What brings you to my studio? Aside from delivering a snack.”

Grinning widely, Eric whips out an olive green envelope from the inside of his jacket, too fast for Hyunjoon to actually read it. “This shiny thing!”

“Oh, is that—” Hyunjoon interrupts himself with a laugh, caused by the sight of Eric nodding furiously, mouth comically agape. He takes the envelope from Eric, reading the calligraphy on the sticker, finger tracing the loops of the letters.

“I can’t believe my Canada bros are finally tying the knot,” Eric says, mouth full of bagel. “It’s surreal, Hyunjoon. Have you got yours yet?”

“Still waiting,” Hyunjoon says. “Are you thinking of bringing a plus-one? Is it too early to ask, or do you have anyone in mind?”

“Actually...” Eric glances at the dancer. “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

“You came all the way here to ask if I was bringing a date?”

Eric sputters, “You— Hey, man, you know what I mean!”

Hyunjoon does, of course. He’d known the second Eric entered the studio, a tell-tale flush to his cheeks, too late to blame on chilly weather. It’s been a long time coming, so he finds himself chuckling at Eric’s nervousness.

“I’d love to attend this wedding without a plus-one,” he begins, “so that we can be one another’s.”

“Okay! It’s a date,” Eric proclaims brightly. “Hey, wait, let’s— let’s do a _bagel_. Get it? Instead of a toast! Hyunjoon? Hey, come on, that was funny!”

**2:20 P.M.**

“I’ve got a gig in November,” Chanhee says as he compares the nutritional values of whole wheat and white bread. His call is connected to his AirPods, which makes it feel like he’s talking to himself while shopping for groceries at his local Walmart. Usually, he just listens to music, but his boyfriend wanted to hear Chanhee’s voice on his way to the gym. “It’s a wedding. Guess where they heard of me.”

“ _Craigslist._ ” Juyeon’s breathy laugh makes Chanhee scowl. “ _Are you making a face? I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist._ ”

“And to think, I was gonna try making you a grilled cheese sandwich.” Chanhee wasn’t, but the thought may’ve there.

“ _Okay, how about... a past client?_ ”

“Yeah, but way more specific.”

Juyeon clicks his tongue, imitating a ticking clock. He says, flat, “ _Drawing a blank. I give up._ ”

“Hyuksoo and Lu’s wedding!” Chanhee drops a loaf of sliced white bread into his basket and smiles. “Throwback to when you tried to use a botched pick-up line on me.”

Juyeon Lee, perfectly handsome groomsman, coming up to Chanhee the wedding singer and asking, “Are you a ten, because I think I only see you? Wait, I was supposed to ask what state you’re from. Wait, hold on. I fucked up.” If Chanhee could cross-stitch, that would’ve gone on a pillow.

“ _Ah, memories._ ” Juyeon sighs, well past the point of embarrassment and onto acceptance. “ _Wait, so who’s getting married? Is it Haknyeon? Did Sunwoo pop the question?_ ”

“As if.” Chanhee has gotten close to Juyeon’s friends over the years, and he’s been stuck wondering if Sunwoo even knows what a diamond _looks_ like. It doesn’t seem likely, everyone agrees, that he and Haknyeon will get married any time soon. “Kevin Moon and Jacob Bae. Do you know them?”

“ _Are they Korean?_ ”

Chanhee scoffs, “Why would you ask that? Would you know them if I said yes?” Juyeon hums contemplatively. “You’re unbelievable!”

“ _Am I your plus-one?_ ” Juyeon asks, eager.

As he heads towards the dairy section, Chanhee answers simply, “You’re my entourage.”

“ _Sweet._ ”

**6:00 P.M.**

The dog park isn’t all that crowded around this time of day. Peanut and Walnut, beagle sisters, nearing one year since they’d gotten adopted, love the open space. While their parents are at work, the puppies have to be cooped in the apartment all day, unavoidable because of the exorbitant prices for dog-watchers. Kevin had recommended going to this park every other day, when they have time, and Jacob agreed without hesitation.

Today, there are a few other dogs with owners Kevin recognizes. Peanut chases a German shepherd, whose owner is a patissiere at the bakery two blocks away. Walnut is playing tug-of-war with a yappy chihuahua, owned by a high schooler who does her AP Statistics homework in the middle of the grass.

Kevin and Jacob, sitting together on a bench, Jacob’s hand atop Kevin’s, watch fondly as their dogs burst with energy.

“Hey.”

Kevin looks up. “What?”

“We’re getting married.” Jacob sounds like he can’t believe it. Maybe he still doesn’t.

“Yeah, we are,” Kevin laughs, kissing his fiancé, sweet. “I love you.” Peanut runs to them, a tennis ball in her mouth, and he leans down to scratch behind her ear. “I love you, too, ‘nut.”

It’s perfect.

**8:30 P.M.**

“We’ve got mail,” Sunwoo announces, entering the apartment, envelopes and coupons in one hand and a bag of Chinese takeout in the other.

Haknyeon, who’d stayed home from work, sick, appears in front of Sunwoo, bundled in a blanket, shuffling in his pink slippers. After kissing Sunwoo on the nose, he takes the mail and whistles. “Gotta love the postal services.”

They head to the living room, Sunwoo setting the food down on the coffee table. The TV is on Food Network, running reruns of _Chopped_. Haknyeon curls on the end of the couch, flipping through the mail, as Sunwoo takes out the white takeout boxes, one by one. Orange chicken, potstickers, fried rice, garlic braised bok choy, fortune cookies. Sunwoo wipes his hands on his pants, hiding his anxiousness, and sits next to his boyfriend.

“You’re not gonna change?” Haknyeon asks, poking Sunwoo’s tie. Sunwoo shakes his head. “I mean, at least take off your jacket.”

“I’m cold,” Sunwoo says, which causes Haknyeon to make a face, unconvinced, but luckily he drops the issue.

“Suit yourself.”

“That looks fancy,” Sunwoo comments, peering at the olive green envelope in Haknyeon’s hands. “Whose wedding?”

“Who else? It’s Kevin and Jacob’s!” Haknyeon tears it open and takes out the save-the-date. The photo is simple: the couple posing in front a snowy hill, backs to the camera, holding maple leaves in the air. “Oh, it’ll be in Vancouver! I hope it snows. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

There are two fortune cookies on the table. One tastes like vanilla-flavored cardboard and has a slip of paper with some generic saying on it about the future, a word in Mandarin, and a set of lucky numbers. The other contains a slip of paper, with no Mandarin or lucky numbers, that reads, _love is never easy, but with you, it comes close. stop waiting._ It probably tastes like vanilla-flavored cardboard, too.

“Yeah, it would.” Sunwoo breaks a pair of wooden chopsticks and gives them to Haknyeon. The box in his jacket pocket has until the end of dinner before being revealed, which shouldn’t take very long. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

**8:55 P.M.**

When Sunwoo gets down on one knee, Haknyeon sneezes twice before saying _yes_.


End file.
